


The Best Birthday Gift

by analyticamethyst



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Della is really REALLY happy to be home, Gen, angsty with a little fluff, happy birthday Della & Donald!!, rated t for 2 uses of the f-word, she's a little jealous of Donald but she loves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analyticamethyst/pseuds/analyticamethyst
Summary: Donald contemplates his birthday alone on the moon. Meanwhile, Della and the family discover a shocking secret.





	The Best Birthday Gift

Donald wants to laugh. He wants to scream. He wants to cry.

 

It’s absolutely fucking fitting that he’d be stuck on the moon on his birthday.  _ Della’s _ birthday.

 

The first birthday in ten years that he should get to spend with his sister, and they’re apart again.

 

_ Della  _ isn’t going to forgo her birthday celebrations because he’s not there. She’ll agree to every extravagant celebration the kids can dream of. They will be ecstatic because she’s letting them do everything he never did. 

 

Donald only got pain and terrible memories as a birthday present. It was the only time of year he was selfish and denied the boys’ wishes to celebrate. Della would get a day full of family and love for her birthday. Della wouldn’t be turning them down.

 

Yet another reason why Della is better than him.

 

Donald buries his face in his hands, and, for what feels like the millionth time in the few short weeks since he’d crashed on the moon, reaches up on his tiptoes for the tiny, singular window in his cell. It’s circular and barely big enough for his head to fit through, but it’s a window, a visual pathway to home, and that’s all he cares about.

 

The glass is patterned with his fingerprints, and he clumsily adds ten new ones in his haste to get as close to home as possible.

 

The Earth looms in front of his gaze, impossibly far and yet somehow just beyond his grasp. It’s glorious, beautiful, majestic. Blue, green, and white swirl together in a vivid, vibrant sphere of life.

 

But Donald could care less if it was a deserted, barren wasteland, as long as it has his family.

 

With a heavy heart, Donald lets his head lean against the agonizingly thick glass. Salty tears spill down his beak and drip onto the floor.  _ All I want for my birthday is  my sister - my  _ **_family_ ** _. _

 

“Happy birthday, Della…” he whispers to the lifeless, empty cell and faraway earth. The silence in response is deafening.

 

\--

 

“Happy BIRTHDAY, Mom!!!” Turbo- no,  _ Dewey  _ squeals, bouncing up and down with joy. Della beams and wraps a tight arm around her beloved son.

 

After ten years (mostly) alone on the moon, spending her birthday with her family is all Della ever wanted to do. Her heart is full to bursting and she just can’t stop smiling. It’s a thousand times better than her scruffy, makeshift cakes alone on the moon.

 

She made it. She did it. She is finally home.

 

There’s a familiar phantom pain in her side though. She misses Donald terribly, even if she won’t say it. She would never want to take him away from his lovely, relaxing cruise. 

 

_ Less than a week until he comes home, Dells. Less than a week. Then you can have another celebration together!! _

 

Scrooge had offered to postpone her birthday festivities, but Della refused. The boys were and are beyond excited to throw her the best party she’d ever attended, and truthfully, Della is a little selfish. She wants to keep the family to herself for a little while longer. She wants to have her own celebration. Isn’t it what she deserves after being stuck, alone, on the moon for ten years?

 

And besides, who would say no to  _ two _ parties?!

 

(Scrooge, maybe.)

 

Della is shaken out of her thoughts by Huey slipping into her embrace on her other side. He’s still the slightest bit hesitant, so she chases those anxieties away by squeezing him tight and is rewarded with a brilliant smile. She grins back.

 

_ This  _ is all she’s ever wanted.

 

“So Hue, what do you usually do to celebrate Donald’s birthday?” Della asks casually, definitely  _ not _ because she wants to do something special and top it.

 

The instant the question leaves her beak Della immediately realizes it was a mistake. Huey’s and Dewey’s bright smiles immediately drop and they share a pained glance.

 

Della takes a deep breath. Her lungs feel like something tight is pressing against them.  _ Noooo my babies, what’s wrong? What’s wrong? What have I done?? _

 

Huey gulps and bravely looks up to meet her gaze. “Um, Mom, we usually didn’t celebrate Uncle Donald’s birthday.”

 

Della blinks in surprise and clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Oh? Why?”

 

Huey bites his lip. “He was always too grief-stricken over you. He never wanted a party.”

 

Della’s hands fall to her side. “...Oh.”

 

“Yeeeeah.” Huey replies, rocking uncomfortably back and forth on his heels. On her other side, Dewey reaches for her hand and she squeezes it tightly, for her benefit as much as for his.

 

Della doesn’t know what to say. A thousand apologies rise to her beak, but none see the light of day. 

 

She can’t apologize to her boys. She shouldn’t.

 

She has to apologize to  _ Donald _ .

 

A sudden conviction floods her body and Della all but storms into the kitchen. Shocked, Huey and Dewey hurry after her. She yanks the door open and strides up to her surprised uncle.

 

“Della, lassie!” Scrooge drops his newspaper on the table and manages a smile. “Happy birthday.”

 

Della shakes her head. “Thanks Uncle Scrooge, but not now.” She ignores her uncle’s pained expression. “We have to call Donald.”

 

“The cruise has a no-phones policy,” Huey pipes up matter-of-factly from behind her, but she can hear the disappointment in his voice.

 

A sudden, familiar pain runs through her. She wants to keep the boys to herself because she knows that Donald is by far the better parent.

 

Della shakes it off.  _ This isn’t the time to be selfish. I still have a few more days. Come on, come on!  _ Out loud, she says “Then call the cruise line! I have to talk to him.” She bites her lip and clenches a fist so hard that her knuckles turn white. “I have to apologize.”

 

All the fight drains out of Scrooge and he rises from his chair, opening his arms for a hug. “Oh, Della.”

 

Della leans into the hug, wrapping her arms loosely around her uncle. “But it’s true! For  _ ten years _ , he never celebrated his birthday because he was too upset over me.”

 

“That’s one way to put it,” Louie mumbles. Della can’t remember when he entered the room.

 

Della slips out of her uncle’s embrace and grips Scrooge by the shoulders tightly, staring straight into his eyes. “I know I can’t go back in time and stop myself from taking the Spear of Selene, but I  _ can  _ apologize now. Please, let me make this right.”

 

The corners of Scrooge’s beak turn up, and Della relaxes. She knows she’s won. “All right, lass. I’ll get the phone number. But remember, Donald doesn’t know you’re back yet.” He pats her on the back, smiling fondly. “Try not to give him a heart attack, all right?”

 

Della grins and mock salutes. “Aye aye, Uncle Scrooge.”

 

He chuckles and wanders over to the old-fashioned phone still attached to the wall. Della follows him eagerly, as if she were an innocent little girl recently moved into the mansion again. Scrooge wraps a comfortingly familiar arm around her shoulders as he flips through the phone book. A folded piece of paper falls out, and Scrooge opens it triumphantly. It’s the flyer for Donald’s cruise.

 

Scrooge hands Della the phone and reads the number out loud as she dials.

 

“Ooh, put it on speaker phone,” Louie requests eagerly, and Della squashes the jealousy flaring up in her stomach.  _ He’s not back yet. _

 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she responds warily instead. “Uncle Scrooge has had this thing since long before Donnie and I moved in.”

 

“You can!” Huey jumps in, beaming proudly. “I added some features for my Junior Woodchuck Applications badge!!”

 

Della swallows her fear and smiles brightly at her son. “Oh Huey, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you! For my badge I fixed up one of Uncle Scrooge’s old compasses.” Huey’s grin is worth every minute stranded on the moon.

 

After she dials and Huey shows her how to switch to speaker phone, Della places the phone on the table, as far as the cord can stretch. She grips the back of a chair to steady her nerves. The entire room’s atmosphere has changed. She doesn’t miss how her boys crowd together, as close to the phone as they can get. She doesn’t miss how Mrs. Beakley drops her housework and comes close to the phone. She doesn’t miss how Scrooge smiles sadly at the phone. She doesn’t miss how Webby, her shadow sister Lena, and Launchpad all slip in. She doesn’t miss how eager they are to hear Donald’s quacky, unique voice again. She doesn’t miss how much they miss him.

 

_ Riiiiiiing. Riiiiiing. Riiiing. _

 

Della takes deep breaths. 

 

“Hello?” A peppy voice with exhaustion seeping in picks up. Everyone looks at Della, and she leans closer to the phone.

 

“Hi! I’m looking for Donald Duck. Can I speak to him, please?”

 

“Uhhhhhh….” the receptionist sounds almost wary, and Della is instantly on edge. She can tell by the way Scrooge picks up his cane that he is too. “Why do you ask?”

 

“It’s his birthday, and I really want to wish him a happy birthday.” She swallows. “I’m his sister, Della.”

 

A sharp shuffling of papers sounds over the phone, and the receptionist sighs. “His records mention you. All right, Miss Della, you should call your other family members.” She gulps.

 

“Donald Duck never boarded this boat.”

 

Della’s stomach drops. Louie buries his face in Huey’s shirt, and Dewey wraps his arms around his brothers. Scrooge stands up from his chair so fast it screeches painfully against the floor.

 

“What do you mean,  _ he never boarded the boat _ ?!” Della yells, all her pent-up anger and frustration spilling out.

 

“He never boarded the boat!” the receptionist yelps back. “I’m sorry, Ms. Duck, but I can’t help you.” The line clicked and went dead.

 

Della stares, stunned, at the phone for a moment longer, the empty dial tone taunting her.

 

Then it finally settles in, and she buries her face in her hands.

 

Hot tears prick behind her eyes and she swallows them back. She can’t cry now. She’s a mother. She has to be strong.

 

She takes a deep breath and runs her hands through her hair as she looks up. Huey, Dewey, and Louie alternate between staring at her and Scrooge. Their eyes are wide, and Louie’s are threatening to spill over with tears. Webby and Lena join their little huddle, and the kids cling to each other tightly.

 

Della all but leaps forward to gather her kids in their arms. Five of them barely fit, and she feels Lena go stiff with panic, but she tightens her grip. They’re  _ hers _ , and she’ll  _ make  _ them fit.

 

She’s still working on that.

 

Huey clears his throat. “Um, Mom? Uncle Scrooge?”

 

“We’ll find him,” Della promises, even though the growing knot of terror in her stomach says otherwise. Louie frowns at her, and she offers what she hopes is a comforting smile.

 

Webby gives Dewey’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Uncle Donald was excited to go on that cruise,” she ponders. “And he had money that he could have used for pay phones to contact us.” Her eyes are bright with fear and excitement. “It’s a caper!!”

 

Louie whimpers.

 

Huey taps his chin thoughtfully. “Well, he probably wasn’t kidnapped for ransom, seeing as we haven’t received a ransom note. He can’t be with Glomgold or Beaks, because they would have accidentally spilled the beans by now. Ma Beagle has said time and time again that we’re all more trouble than we’re worth, so the Beagle Boys don’t have him either.”

 

“Goldie?” Dewey offers.

 

Scrooge scowls her name and pulls out his golden flip phone. “That’s a possibility, but she probably would have said something by now too. I’m calling Gizmoduck, and then I’ll call her.”

 

Dewey nods uncertainly, fiddling with his shirt hem. Something else, a possibility Della can’t discern, hangs unsaid in the air. Something else she missed.

 

Fear and curiosity get the best of her, and she spreads her arms, trying to ignore how her hands are shaking. “Any other ideas?”

 

Lena’s gaze flits around the room before she suddenly pulls out her shiny new cell phone, courtesy of Scrooge, and all but sprints out of the room. “I’m calling Violet.”

 

At Della’s confused stare, Mrs. Beakley leans in. “She… has a history with Magica de Spell.”

 

Della raises her eyebrows, but she’s not interested in Lena’s backstory right now. The teen had been tiptoeing around Della ever since she’d returned, and while Della is dying with curiosity, the last thing she wants to right now is drive away a potential daughter. “Could it be Magica, then?”

 

It’s Louie who answers her after a moment of silence. “She’s been missing ever since we fought her last August, but she doesn’t have her powers anymore.”

 

Della crosses her arms and leans against the wall, contemplating. “Well… back to square one, I suppose. Where did you last see Donald?”

 

Launchpad raises an uncharacteristically timid hand from where he slouches in the back corner. His eyes are rimmed red, and even though his very presence reminds Della of her overwhelming fear of being replaced, in the wake of a more terrifying fear she’s able to see past that and to a man who very clearly cares about Donald almost as much as she does. Her heart aches with empathy. “I drove him to the bus stop just outside of Duckberg.”

 

Every rambunctious thought running around Della’s head, everything from wondering who Violet is, hoping Launchpad is okay, wanting to hug her boys, and her grumbling stomach vanishes in a flash of terrifying clarity. Her stomach knots at the realization. “That’s… that’s where I crashed the Spear of Selene.”

 

Webby’s hands fly to her beak.

 

Before she finishes her sentence, Louie already has his phone out and is looking for news. A few searches in, he whispers “Oh my god” and hands the phone to Huey before burying his face in Webby’s shirt. She wraps her arms around him, her hands shaking.

 

Dewey leans over Huey’s shoulder to read, and they exchange a horrified glance. “Mom…” Dewey whispers.

 

“What?” Della squeezes the countertop tight to keep her balance.

 

Huey takes a deep breath. “The rocket took off twice.”

 

Della stares at him. She wants to laugh. She wants to scream. She wants to cry.

 

It’s absolutely fucking fitting that the beloved twin brother she hasn’t seen in ten years is stranded, alone, in space on her birthday.  _ Donald’s  _ birthday. 

 

The first birthday in ten years that she should get to spend with her brother, and they’re apart again.

 

Della swallows thickly. Tears are threatening to spill over again. “Well, at least the aliens I met on the moon are friendly. I gave them the manual to my ship so they can make more. He’s not stuck there forever.”

 

Scrooge thrusts his cane onto the ground with perhaps more force than he intended. “We can’t wait for them, lass!” He bites his lip and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. “I failed to get you back. I won’t fail to rescue him.”

 

Della gives her uncle a surprised smile. “Of course.” She rests her hands on her hips. “After all, it’s my birthday, and I want to celebrate by getting my brother back.”

 

Scrooge sets a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. “Of course, lass. It’s your first birthday home and I won’t hesitate to give you the best gift to make up for lost time.”

 

Della beams at her uncle through her tears and wraps him in a hug. She opens her arm for the rest of the family to fill in. Nestled between Dewey and Launchpad, she feels a hot, salty tear drip down her beak and hit the floor.    
  


“All I want for my birthday is my brother.”  _ But at least I have the rest of my family. _

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t sure if I would finish in time, but I’m really happy I did. I was going to rewrite the piece I wrote last year, but I decided to write something new instead. So many amazing fics, like mine from last year (not that it was amazing) focus on how Donald feels on his birthday but not Della (and that’s partly because for a while we didn’t know) so I wanted to focus on her. p a r a l l e l s 
> 
> happy birthday, you funky little adventure parent unlucky twins!!!


End file.
